Finding someone you really connect with, who becomes a tight friend or more, isn't an every day event. At least it's never been for me. My buds are precious to me and I wanna NOT fuck things up. I want to be a good, giving, supportive chum.Lesson Uno
For peace, love, continued fun alliance and all that other happy shit, it's essential for me to recognize, know and accept the person for precisely who he/she actually is. I may very well need/want more than they can give but that friend, realistically, may not be wired to come through for me – despite their sincere wishes to do so. Accepting all the goodness they do bring to the table and disregarding the rest (as long as they're not causing damage or reeking havoc on the regular) is key.
Disappointments happen and I need to learn from them. I gots to embrace reality so's I don't set a dear one, OR myself, up for mondo frustration, stress and failure.Pal X can't fly to the moon with me or break free at the drop of the hat for a glass ‘o’ the grape and a fast game of cribbage – NOT a fucking TRAGEDY. I am not without resources or other companions who may be able to come to my emotional (or whatevs) rescue. (Also too, cribbage? Ah...no.)
Just so ya know, I'm well aware of the fact that I’m a proper bowl of fizzle for my friends too. I don't drive much so socializing can be infrequent unless you motor down to Valhalla. I'm deaf so communication can be somewhat less than free wheeling. I don't golf, bowl, play darts, go on epic hikes, camp or jog. I'm muy opinionated and not shy about sharing my precious thoughts. I can be a bit much and a bit not enough just like anyone else. I'd like to say I'm easy BUT, last time I checked, I'm human. Letting down the side’s part of our basic OS, don'cha know.
Evolution does happen though – even for me. I believe I'm WAY more mature and a better chum than I was even ten years ago at the dewy, tender age of 49.I could be SO wrong though.
To my mind, this – lesson uno of zen and the art of friendship maintenance – is why The Amazing Bob and I were so damn happy for 30 beautiful years. While we totes discussed our wants and needs and did our level best to meet these for each other, we accepted that this wasn't gonna be a lock 100% of the time. We loved and accepted each other for who we were. We also totally grokked the fluidity of it all.
Friendships, platonic and otherwise, are rivers – flowing around rocks, meandering, dipping and sometimes raging and overflowing.
Christ, I'm deep, eh?
Those that don't know him won't like him and those that do sometimes don't know how to take him, he ain't wrong, he's just different, and his pride won't let him do things to make you think he's right.
ReplyDeleteOh, and little warm puppies and children and girls of the night.
But what’s your take on smokey old pool rooms and clear mountain mornin's?
DeleteMornin's 'round here are almost always clear mountain, 'cept when it's smokey 😏
DeleteBeen quite a while since I got away from the night owl thing, not to be confused with Nighthawks, am more of an early, very early, morning owl. Catch the sunrise on the mountains. At The Pub I frequent we voluntarily took it outside twenty-five years ago, and these days it's illegal everywhere except casinos. I don't go in casinos just as I don't go into bars, but I've never been a bit inconvenienced to step outside on those rare occasions I succumb to the craving for a puff of tobacco. But it's also a long standing cultural thing, most people don't even smoke in their houses. I can remember by grandmother making m' g'da smoke outside fifty years years ago. This is Oregon, nobody'll blink if walking down the street one discretely takes a puff of weed, but light up a cigarette and even the tobacco users will kick your ass. Yes, another piece of "America" gone, but it's the 21st century.
Song is all I got.
Hi, my name is Donna and I speak in song lyrics It's to, ya know, compensate for my ordinary shoes :-)
DeleteI'm a very early morning cat too.
I don't smoke (tobacco that is) but, back when I used to go to the live music clubs, I enjoyed the smoke – the smell, the look of the hazy air, the way people's faces changed while they puffed. Gave (and gives) me so much inspiration for painting and more.
Jen, on the other hand HATED it with the passion of 1,000 suns.
Bob used to only smoke (allowing himself 2, at most 3, ciggies a day) in his study with the window open. I told him he could light up elsewhere but this was his thing – only at his writing desk.
Now I have Diamonds on the Souls of her Shoes in my head. Thank you!